


slow dancing

by withoutwords



Category: due South
Genre: Drinking & Talking, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Making Out, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29393610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withoutwords/pseuds/withoutwords
Summary: “Truth or Dare,” Ray says as he starts drinking another beer. He doesn’t miss the way Fraser rolls his eyes, arms across his chest but not hostile.“Really, Ray. This isn’t a slumber party.”“Not according to Turnbull.”
Relationships: Benton Fraser/Ray Kowalski
Comments: 3
Kudos: 35





	slow dancing

**Author's Note:**

> This wasn't meant for Valentine's Day, but let me bestow this as a gift to you anyway. You are loved x
> 
> (side note, Ray's drinking but not drunk).

Ray’s life is full of odd behaviours, and badly thought out habits. Candy in his morning coffee, keeping cash rolled up in his sock drawer, styling his hair in so many different ways that even he forgets who he is sometimes. Ray thought all this might come in handy when he went undercover as Vecchio, seeing as Welsh had said,

“Vecchio, he’s got …. quirks.”

Except, pretty soon, Ray understood that by  _ quirks _ the Lieutenant meant  _ Mountie  _ and if Ray thought he’d had the market for ‘oddball’ cornered he was very, very wrong. Fraser had more weird habits, more quirks, then Ray’d even knew existed.

It was the reason they’d almost stopped being partners, in the end.

Fraser and all his … Fraserness.

“Truth or Dare,” Ray says as he starts drinking another beer. He doesn’t miss the way Fraser rolls his eyes, arms across his chest but not hostile.

“Really, Ray. This isn’t a slumber party.”

“Not according to Turnbull.”

“Yes, well,” Fraser says with a sigh, slumping back into his chair. The hat and all the red stuff is gone, leaving Fraser to look that type of relaxed that Ray likes. The kind that makes Ray’s mouth a little dry and makes him think, oh, right, that’s what all the fuss is about. “I fear Turnbull doesn’t socialise as much as he’d like to, so any opportunity to meet with others means he usually goes somewhat overboard.”

“Somewhat?” Ray repeats, eyeing the mess of food and decorations that had been left, strewn across Fraser’s office. Ray’s apartment had been flooded and he’d needed a place to crash for the night so - with Thatcher out of town - Fraser had offered the Consulate. Unfortunately Turnbull had overheard them talking about it. “I’ll be glad if I never hear another disco hit in my whole life, Fraser.  _ My whole life _ .”

“I can’t disagree with you.”

“And, hey,” Ray goes on, shaking a finger at Fraser. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the dodge there. Truth or Dare.”

“Oh, for heaven’s - ”

“Truth it is,” Ray sniggers, kicking his feet up on the couch and taking another swig of his beer. Fraser seems resigned to his fate, because his own feet - sans boots - rest up on the top of his desk. “Why don’t you drink?”

Fraser eyes him, brow raised. “I have to say I’m disappointed.”

“What? Why?”

“Just a banal question,” Fraser shrugs, scratching at an eyebrow. “I can’t count the amount of times I’ve been asked.”

“I’ve never asked you.”

“Exactly.”

Ray has no idea what that means. He squirms in his spot a little, feeling suddenly like the tables have been turned and he’s the one being scrutinised. “Fine. Well.” He supposes that leaves out questions relating to his honesty, and his sex life. Damn. “Who do you talk to when you think no one’s listening?”

This time Ray swears Fraser goes a little pale. He knows it’s not right to be smug, but he can’t help it. “You,” he starts, and then stumbles. Ray has no hope hiding his smirk. “You mean Diefenbaker.”

“No. I talk to the wolf almost as much as you do these days. It’s different.”

“Well, I don’t know what you mean, Ray.”

“Yes, you do,” Ray argues, sitting back up with his elbows at his knees. “You’re always muttering under your breath to someone. And don’t try to say you’re only talking to yourself because I’ve heard you.”

“Well I  _ was _ once committed to a Mental Facility - ”

“For work - ”

“And many people, yourself included, like to remind me that I’m crazy - ”

“A freak, not a psycho - ”

“So I suppose I must be talking to myself, Ray, all things considered.”

“You’re such a liar,” Ray says, but he’s not mad. He’s actually on the edge of laughter, glad that he could get under Fraser’s skin a little. Mess up some of that … neatness. Ray likes to think that as much as Fraser has strange habits, quirks, the really messy stuff is what only he gets to see.

Fraser giving him stick from the moment they met. Fraser calling him names while they were on a sinking ship. Fraser getting all pissy when Ray showed a too-eager interest in women - which was always the hardest one to figure out but he liked it all the same.

“Truth,” Fraser says with a motioning hand toward Ray. Ray doesn’t bother mentioning the fact that he’s dodging the question again. Besides, if Fraser was honest with him, told him the whole truth, made everything  _ neat _ … Ray doesn’t mind being in the dark about some things. “Why do you no longer go out dancing?”

“How do you know I don’t?” Ray snaps, hating how he sounds so defensive. 

“Well, every Tuesday night, you used to get ready at the precinct, drive me back to the Consulate and then go out. But you haven’t done that in months.”

“I could be going out a different night.”

“Except you work late most nights, have dinner at the Vecchios on Friday, see your parents on Saturday - ”

“Fraser,” Ray snaps again, holding a hand up to silence him. “Fine. I don’t need to hear about how you know my schedule, that’s weird.”

“Understood.”

“And I just don’t … okay? It was something me and Stella did and now it feels kinda empty, y’know? So I quit.”

Fraser’s quiet, and Ray drinks more of his beer without meeting his eye. The topic of Stella is always harder with Fraser; mostly because he’s so good at listening that Ray tends to just spill about every last thing. He can’t crack jokes or make fun of himself - instead he’s telling Fraser about where they met, or how they got engaged or when Ray realised he wasn’t in love with her any more. 

“You love to dance, Ray,” Fraser finally says, and Ray feels it twist a little in his gut. Sour.

“Yeah, well, you love trekking across the icy wildnerness on a dogsled and I don’t see any of that around here.”

There’s quiet again. Ray finishes what’s in his bottle with an angry gulp, mostly angry at himself now. He knows he’s being an asshole. “Sorry.”

“No. You’re right. It was wrong of me to - ”

“Don't. It’s fine.”

Fraser clears his throat into the silence. “I suppose it’s normal for games like Truth or Dare to become heated.”

“With teenagers maybe,” Ray says with a huff, looking up at Fraser who’s giving him a slight smile. “Truth?”

Fraser sighs. “Why not?”

“You ever think about leaving?” he asks, and before Ray can confirm he means America, Chicago,  _ Ray _ , Fraser says,

“All the time.”

It doesn’t come as a surprise to Ray, sure, but it still hits hard. Ray tries not to let it show on his face, that the thought of doing any of this without Fraser is just … too much. The last nail in his coffin, so to speak. “Were you happy? Before your dad … y’know … were you happy?”

Fraser takes a moment to consider, this time. “I suppose I was, yes. At least as much as I’d hoped to be at that point in life. Things were strained with my father, and I made little time to see friends … but I had Dief, and a job I enjoyed, and it was simpler.”

Ray smirks. “Not so simple now?”

“With an undercover police officer posing as my ex-partner, while trying to help solve crimes without any jurisdiction and all the while being considered a freak?” Fraser says, and his smile’s getting brighter now, making Ray smile back. “Yes, Ray, it was definitely simpler.”

Ray’s empty bottle has rolled to the floor now, which Fraser would usually have a go at him for. With all the other mess, though, it doesn’t make much difference. “That’s funny, y’know?” he says, getting up and moving over to Fraser’s desk to perch himself on the edge of it. 

Fraser puts his feet down, and rolls his chair back just a little. “What’s that Ray?”

“Well, aside from the day job, y’know … life’s not as messy for me any more.”

“Oh?”

“Sure. I got Mom and Dad again, and the Vecchios too. I got you,” he goes on, shuffling over so that he’s right there, right in front of Fraser, so close he can smell his cologne. “And Dief, and hell even this place now and then. There’s … meaning, again, y’know?”

“Yes, I know,” Fraser says, his voice a little quieter. Ray doesn’t miss the way his throat bobs, how his arms loosen so he can scratch at a shoulder.

“And, hey, I’m a weird guy, I got those weird habit things y’know,  _ quirks _ .”

“Well I wouldn’t say - ”

Ray waves a hand at him dismissively. “I do, I do, don’t try to be polite about it Fraser, it’s not like you don’t have ‘em too.”

“Of course.”

“But there’s still that kind of normal, yeah? Just getting up, having a place to be, having someone to see. It’s nice.”

“I’m glad, Ray.”

They share a loaded look. Ray’s had a few more drinks than he normally would - mostly to get through Turnbull’s idea of a fun night in - but he’s not drunk. His judgement isn’t clouded. He knows what he’s doing when he grabs the arms of Fraser’s hair and pulls him in closer.

“Ray…”

He knows what he’s doing when he leans in to press his mouth to Fraser’s, soft and dry but fizzing across his skin like he’s free-falling and he doesn’t know where he’s going to end up. Ray blinks his eyes open to see Fraser’s reaction but then Fraser’s hands come up to pull him closer, and Ray’s mouth falls open and it’s about all he needs to know.

Fraser kisses even better than Ray had expected him to; Fraser kisses amazing, like maybe he can taste more than just the cheap beer and potato chips on Ray’s mouth. Maybe he’s never tasted anything so good.

“Frase,” Ray mumbles into his mouth, making Fraser tense and pull away.

“Sorry, Ray, I - ”

“Don’t be sorry,” Ray grabs at his shirt to keep him close, nuzzles at his cheek. “I don’t want you to stop, I just thought we could go to the couch or somethin'."

“Oh, oh, right you are, let’s, yes,” Fraser stutters, and if having Fraser’s tongue down his throat was a turn on, then seeing him flushed and dishevelled and messy like this is another level. And it’s because of Ray.

“Better,” Ray says with a grin when he’s climbing onto Fraser’s lap, feeling Fraser’s hand glide down his back and curve over his ass.

“Much,” Fraser agrees, tipping his head back to welcome another kiss. Ray’s hands explore the expanse of those shoulders, the tight planes of that chest, those sides - getting his fill. When he rocks his hardening cock into Fraser’s own, and hears the sound that Fraser makes, well. He knows for sure now.

“Freak,” he says with a smile, panting into their drawn out, biting kisses.

“Really, Ray?” 

“Not you, not you,” he says, bringing a hand up to run a finger down the length of Fraser’s nose. Fraser takes it into his mouth, making Ray gasp. “Talking about me, and all my quirks, y’know.”

“Is this the time …?”

“Yeah. Because my biggest one is you, y’know.”

Fraser blinks up at Ray, though his hands are still moving over him, fiddling with his waistband like it’s just in his way. Ray shudders. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Donno. But it’s true. I’m weird, you’re weird, we’re a perfect match.”

“I see,” Fraser says, but he looks a lot less confused and a lot more like Ray’s said just the right thing. It wasn’t a line, and Ray’s pretty sure he knows. It’s just the truth.

Ray never fit anywhere. Not with his small town folks, or his Gold Coast girl, or even as an undercover cop taking any job he could to escape from real life.

Ray fits right here, though. In Fraser’s life, on his mind, under his hands and against his mouth.

Fits with Fraser.

“Freak,” Ray whispers as Fraser’s hands push up under his shirt, Ray digging blunt teeth into his throat.

“Yes,” Fraser agrees with a gasp. “And me, Ray. You and me.”

“Yeah.” Ray takes Fraser’s face in his hands, kisses him gently. “It’s always you and me.” 

**Author's Note:**

> thefancyspin.tumblr.com


End file.
